


A Tale of Starsky, the Man He Loved, and the Woman He Didn't

by CrazyKater



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 16:59:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4313040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyKater/pseuds/CrazyKater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*Slash* Sequel to Handsome Hutch and 3rd in my Tales series</p>
<p>He didn't love her. Starsky knew that. He was pretty sure Alice knew it too. What comfort he took from her didn't have anything to do with love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tale of Starsky, the Man He Loved, and the Woman He Didn't

[ ](http://s36.photobucket.com/user/kaytree8/media/E6CFCC7B-B488-4486-B54C-165F63620642_zpsv7qfgueg.jpg.html)

 

He didn't love her. Starsky knew that. He was pretty sure Alice knew it too.

What comfort he took from her didn't have anything to do with love.

 

It had to do with pain.

 

His encounters with Alice always started the same. A devastatingly close call. A moment where Starsky was sure his partner was dead. The fear turning into anger, resulting in the exchange of one verbal assault after another. And Starsky sauntering in the dirty run-down bar off of Third Street.

 

Starsky’s encounters with Alice always ended the same. Pounding headache from too much booze too early in the morning. A deep hollow feeling in his heart, and numbness promising to follow, as the exhaustion of the traumatic night caught up with him. He would sleep, but only after he crawled back to the arms of his partner.

 

Laying on his back, Starsky was still breathing heavily from exertion. Closing his eyes tightly he lifted his hands and ran them through his unruly hair.

 

_Please don’t let her say anything. Please don’t—_

 

"Was it good for you honey?" Alice drawled next to him in bed.

 

His hands falling limp at his sides, Starsky lay silently next to her. His dull eyes staring up at the white ceiling.

 

_No. Not good at all._

 

He lay there a moment more, forcing himself to not think of Hutch. To think of anything other than his partner. But his mind had other plans and his thoughts were overtaken.

 

Hutch. His buddy. His partner. His best friend and, now, his lover.

 

Lying next to Alice, Starsky was assaulted with everything he loved about the man. The sound of his laugh. His bedroom voice. Deep, sexy, comforting. His touch. His smile. The way he whispered I love you before they would lay down together. His fierceness for Starsky. In and out of the bedroom. On and off the streets. His love. Their love.

 

It was too much.

 

If love was an ocean, vast and abysmal, then Hutch was a slab of cement. Heavy and adhered to both Starsky’s feet. Pulling him down to the bottom, drowning him in the liquid adoration, as panic threatened to overwhelm him.

 

Being buddies—best friends—was one thing. Being lovers and soul mates, well, that was something else entirely. To be partnered with your lover in such a high-stress hazardous career was almost impossible. Starsky loved Hutch with all his heart and soul, and it terrified him.

 

There was a time when Starsky didn’t fear Hutch dying. The potential was always there but he didn’t focus on it. Now, he was constantly fixated on the possibility. His worry forcing him to do the only thing he could think of.

 

Run.

 

Hutch ran with his legs. He called it exercise. Something he did to clear his head.

 

Starsky ran with his behavior. Grabbing Alice by the heart, he took her on the full-sized bed and cream colored sheets. Something he did because he was afraid of losing what he had. Something that seemed inevitable at this point.

 

Hutch could have anyone he wanted. It was only a matter of time before he realized he wanted someone else. Someone who wouldn't run to fuck someone else the second things got a little sketchy. Someone who could handle the darkness of their own thoughts.

 

Yawning, Alice leaned into Starsky’s side. She smoothed her small hand across his naked stomach. The touch felt foreign to him. Evil. She wasn't who he wanted. She wasn't who he should have been with. Starsky took no satisfaction in what he had done.

 

"Baby?" Alice prompted when he still hadn't answered her.

 

‘I'm not your baby,’ Starsky thought grimly. ‘I'm not sure I'm gonna be anyone's baby if I keep this up.’

 

Rubbing his hands across his face, Starsky moved from Alice’s touch and stood. He didn't look at her.

 

"It was great," he offered half-heartedly.

 

The world was starting to crumble around him. His heavy breaths turning in to sobs, he gathered his clothes off the floor and sought the privacy of Alice’s bathroom.

 

With Alice, Starsky always cried after. He was pretty sure she knew but was nice enough to leave him alone about it. She didn’t press him why on why or try to make him feel better.

 

With Hutch, Starsky never cried. But if he did, Starsky knew, Hutch would have pressed. He would have held him gently. Called him something like ‘baby’ or ‘sweetheart’ and asked him what was wrong. He would have told him it was going to be okay.

 

But sometimes Starsky didn’t want that at all.

 

Just because Hutch was a rescuer—his rescuer—it didn't mean Starsky wanted to be rescued all the time. Sometimes he just wanted to feel the pain.

 

Sometimes, Starsky just wanted to cry.

 

And today, he didn’t want to be held gently. To be called baby or asked what was wrong. He didn't want Hutch to look at him, his eyes gentle and understanding, and tell him everything was going to be alright. And that’s why he ran to Alice.

 

Water turned on full blast, his knees pulled up to his chest, Starsky sat, crying, in the tub. The noise of the shower covering up his heart wrenching sobs, as the cold droplets of water stung his skin and intermixed with his salty tears.

 

Starsky cried because he was terrified. Because he was ashamed. He cried for violating the close relationship he had with his partner. He cried for Hutch, and he cried for himself.

 

And when all the tears were gone, he stood, an odd feeling of peace overtaking him. He washed his hair and body with Alice’s small bar of rose soap. Then Starsky put on his clothes, left Alice sleeping in bed, and made the drive to Venice Place.

 

During the drive he prayed that this would be the last time. Somehow he knew it wouldn't be.

 

END

 

 


End file.
